


the mortifying incident

by memehereagain



Series: Six weeks at the Blofis's [1]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drunken Shenanigans, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:48:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27584314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memehereagain/pseuds/memehereagain
Summary: A long week, a night out drinking, a kitchen counter and our favorite couple. What could go wrong?
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Series: Six weeks at the Blofis's [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016311
Comments: 14
Kudos: 176





	the mortifying incident

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greenconverses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenconverses/gifts).



> I'm gifting this work/series to greenconverses because she's the og. Because 10 plus years ago she unknowingly pulled me into this world of reading and sharing and having fun with your favorite characters. And here I am, all these years later, having a freaking blast and a half. 
> 
> And I dedicate this work/series to everyone reading, commenting, reblogging, sending me prompts and suggestions, and making this fun, in the middle of this crappy pandemic. And to the anon on tumblr who sent that "look away" prompt? LOOK WHAT YOU HAVE DONE!!! LOLLL

“Cheers to making it through the week,” Percy says, his second glass of minty cocktail poised for a toast.

The waiter passes Annabeth her refill and she clinks her glass to his. “Cheers.”

Both of them drain a considerable portion of their drinks, washing away the worst of the past seven days.

The start of Percy and Annabeth’s temporary move into the Blofis townhouse had been complicated, with a dose of general chaos. 

They hadn’t planned on ‘moving in with the parents,’ but after wires got crossed with the people moving into their old place, and because of some baffling hiccups in the remodeling of their new place, they found themselves scrambling for somewhere to stay for six weeks. That place ended up being the Blofis brownstone for a number of logistical reasons.

Nonetheless, the week was a series of snafus and frustrations. Both of them now had longer commutes, Percy was working extra hours to offset additional costs of moving and wedding expenses, Annabeth was on a deadline to turn in a final report for a state grant that would impact her compensation at the end of the fiscal year, and for some strange reason, U-hauls and storage units had been scarce throughout Brooklyn. Percy had spent the last 48 hours at the station, they had fought several times, and Annabeth had cried more than she would like to admit.

So on Friday night, they went on a date. Just the two of them. And they were going to relax, and they were going to enjoy themselves.

“I found a new bedmate in your absence.” Their drinks are empty, plates cleared, and they’ve just been going back and forth for about an hour, tucked cozily in a corner booth at their favorite sushi spot. She’s pressed to his right side and he’s got his arm around her shoulders.

“Mmhmm,” his left hand finds her leg through the slit of her long dress. It’s a pale blue floral number, with capped sleeves and buttons all the way down the front. “Tell me about him. Should I be jealous?”

“Very.” She bites her bottom lip when his warm palm settles on her thigh. Her mouth is painted a rich red color and he wants her lips on him. “ _She_ doesn’t snore.”

“Mhmm.” He drags his nose along her hairline. “I knew one day you’d toss me over for a girl.”

“She pokes me awake, occasionally. Not nearly as often as you do.”

“Fair enough.” His long fingers are trailing up her thigh, while his other hand, visible to any onlookers, casually toys with her long, loose curls. “What else do I do that your new bedfellow doesn’t?”

She doesn’t answer, but her red mouth parts and grey eyes lock with sea green when his seeking hand bypasses her inner thigh.

She crosses her legs, effectively trapping his hand between her thighs. He buries his smile in her hair.

“Come on,” he mumbles into the curly, blonde mass. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Her right hand travels from his knee to his lap, and her parted lips stretched into a smile when he clears his throat.

“This is a losing battle, babe, you know that.” She tilts her head until he lifts his face from her fragrant curls and their foreheads touch.

He does know that. But sparring with Annabeth is one of his favorite pastimes. And the alcohol in his system is only egging him on for this particular war, impending defeat notwithstanding.

She caresses with increased boldness and he blows out a breath. “Woah.”

“I’m gonna call for the check,” she whispers. “Sounds good?”

“Yup.”

* * *

One handsy subway ride later, and they are back at the brownstone, so wrapped up in each other they barely remember to shut the door.

He starts pulling her up the upstairs to where the bedrooms are, but she stops him at the second step, stumbling under the burden of his heavier mass. She drops her handbag by the wooden stair rail.

“We can’t.” She tries to tugs him down to her, frowning slightly. “Estelle is probably in our bed. Definitely actually.” She sways on her feet, kept upright by his hand in hers.

“What?” He sounds distracted. He climbs down, lifting their joint hands, and walks around her, half-twirling her into his arms. He’s back in her personal space: hands at the dip of her waist, and mouth seeking the erogenous zone below her ear.

“I told you.” She tilts her head with a noise of pleasure. “Estelle’s been sleeping with me.”

He’s walking her backwards, aiming for the couch, and they bump into the coffee table on the way.

“You didn’t tell me anything…” he murmurs, trailing off, confused. “Wait, Estelle? You replaced me with Estelle?” His breath, bearing a heady odor of alcohol, fans across her face as he stops walking and drags his face from her neck to study her.

“Uh-huh.” Annabeth is unbuttoning his white dress shirt with slightly drunken focus. “You look really good in white.”

“No. No no no.” He catches her wrists in his hands. “She can’t keep doing that. Not when I’m here.”

“You’re gonna have to tell her that, big brother. Because I can’t. I’m her best friend.” She frees her hands and is working the last few buttons loose. “I want this, Perce. It’s been a week…”

She’s cut off as Percy sets into motion once again, dragging her into the kitchen. His open button-up fills like a windward sail as his rapid, long-legged strides take them through the entryway.

“But we can’t,” she bemoans. “There’s no place for us…”

“Yes we can.” Percy pulls her to the counter and she draws her hands up his neck; he backs her up against it, and seals his mouth over hers. Her hands skate up and down his bare chest, along his sides, down the warm row of contracting abs. His hands rub over her ass, gripping it through the light blue patterned linen. 

She brushes him below the belt, and he groans and lifts one hand to angle her head for a filthier, wetter kiss: suckling her lips and tongue and licking into her mouth.

The kiss ends with a wet smack. “This is a bad idea,” Annabeth moans against his beard bristled cheek, drawing in shattered breaths. Her fingers twist in the hair at his nape. She has widened her stance so he can stand between her legs and push her into the counter, his hips molded to hers. He’s dragging his hands along her body, pausing to palm and massage what he can and she pulls his mouth back down to meet hers.

“This is a phenomenal idea, I think.” Percy breathes this against her lips before he grips the back of her thighs and hoists her up. He drops her on the counter, finding her leg through the slit once again to hold it to his hip.

“What are you up to Perseus Jackson?” She winds her arms around his neck and wraps her leg around his, anchoring him to her.

“We are doing this Annabeth Chase. Even if you... call me names.” His hands have left her legs and have started working the long line of buttons on her dress free. 

He looks edible: prickly jaw, rumpled hair, shirt open to display his tan, broad torso. Her personal Adonis. She massages her hands into the soft hair covering his chest. And he’s trying to focus on unbuttoning her dress but he gets distracted too easily; pushing up her skirt to reveal more of her toned legs, meeting her mouth for heated kisses, and dragging his teeth against her chest.

After much rocking and twisting and grabbing and rubbing and general they-can’t-take-their-hands-off-each-other-long-enough-to-get-to-the-main-event, Percy finally gets her dress fully unbuttoned. It’s pure fire for Annabeth; fast, overwhelming and exhilarating, because Percy, good loving husband that he is, always makes sure she gets hers. And then they’re together, and they’re really putting an end to the week from hell but- 

They startle when the lights flicker on and off in rapid beats. Annabeth breaks their kiss in confusion.

“You guys are in my kitchen, and you guys are loud.”

It’s Sally. In the kitchen entryway. She’s in a large gray bathrobe and the expression on her face is a little embarrassed, mostly fatigued, and very annoyed.

Annabeth makes a noise when they separate, so she’s flushing beet red and thinking about vomiting from embarrassment as she frantically pulls the halves of her dress together while Percy fumbles to pull his pants up from around his knees.

“Shit. Mom-”

“Oh my gods. Sally-”

In their uncoordinated movements, they accidentally knock over a vase of roses, which had, up until that moment, narrowly missed out on the action.

Sally reaches forward but it’s too late. It hits the tile with a way-too-loud crash.

That, of course, draws a worried Paul into the kitchen. Paul takes one look at the scene and leaves, mumbling something about a towel.

Sally is whispering furiously, “You better pray Estelle doesn’t wake up, because I’m not doing any explaining.” She’s moving to the side of the counter opposite them to retrieve the roses from the wet, glassy mess, placing them on the counter.

Percy has got his zip up and is rebuttoning Annabeth’s dress, jaw clenched in discomfort, while she refastens her bra. He’s disoriented, still a little drunk and trying to shake the feeling. Annabeth can’t stop babbling in apology.

“I can’t believe- Sally I’m so so sorry, we got carried away, totally carried away. And we had been drinking and- and, everyone was asleep upstairs-”

Percy pleads, “Annabeth,” desperate for her to stop talking. They finish her buttons and he steps back to help her slide down from the countertop so she can turn and face Sally.

Light footsteps pat on the kitchen floor. “Annabeth. You’re back,” Estelle says in a sweet, sleepy voice. She’s awake. And she’s shuffling to the counter to give her a hug, but all three of them yell.

“Stop!”

“Wait-”

“Estelle there’s glass!”

She startles at their raised voices and steps back. Annabeth feels a fresh burn of tears and, frustrated, she pushes her palm against her forehead. Estelle is tired and confused and wipes wispy black hair out of her face. “Are you gonna come to bed Annabeth?”

Annabeth looks at Sally, who gestures and says, “Go, she needs to go back to sleep. Stelle-belle, Annabeth is gonna go up with you so you can go right back to sleep, alright?”

Estelle nods, and reaches her hand towards her.

Annabeth hurries to her, stopping to slide her foot back into her forgotten shoe, and takes her hand, shocked at Sally trusting her young daughter with the woman she found nailing her son on her kitchen counter.

Sally’s eyes follow the two of them out of the kitchen and up the stairs before she rounds on Percy, who’s been leaning against the sink, buttoning his shirt.

“I don’t have anything to say,” she starts. Paul is back with a towel and he underhand tosses it to Percy. One awkward “alrighty then” later and he’s out of the kitchen as Sally’s rant continues. “You two are married at this point and even if you weren’t, I wouldn’t care.” She bends down to pick up the larger chunks of glass. “But to come back here so late? Drunk?” 

She tosses the broken glass into the trash can Percy has grabbed and is holding towards her. “And you’re loud enough to wake up the entire house? This isn’t some frat house, baby. Did you consider Paul, or Estelle?”

Percy drags his hand over his mouth, speechless. His eyes are drawn to the messy smear of red lipstick on his hand. The same red that had been applied oh-so-enticingly to Annabeth’s mouth is now a smudge on his palm, and the full mortification of the moment settles on him so sharply he almost feels angry.

“Hey. Mom. I’m sorry. Look, I’ve got it. I’m sorry.” Sally stands slowly and watches Percy impatiently pick up the remaining shards before he drops the towel over the main splash. The towel unnaturally absorbs the wetness, and it takes her tired mind a couple seconds to realize Percy is causing the fabric to draw in droplets that have spread further along the kitchen floor. Sally blinks when Percy snatches it up and drops the sodden thing into the sink.

He doesn’t look at her when he grabs the broom from where it’s tucked next to the refrigerator and starts sweeping up the remaining evidence of the mishap. 

“Well,” she begins. Percy still won’t look at her.

“Percy.” He looks up from what he’s doing, detecting a hint of merriment in her voice.

_“Mom-”_

It’s too late. She’s laughing, it’s a mix of disbelief and exhaustion and vindication, then she’s turning away to walk out of the kitchen.

“My girlfriends will be hearing about this.”

“Oh please, Mom, don’t...” Percy begs, ears going red as he resumes his task.

“Nope, it’s my right as mother and witness.” She turns at the entryway to face him, brows raised and with a smile that dares him to argue. “And you seem to have this,” she gestures to the remaining mess, “handled, so I’m going back to bed.”

She’s out of the kitchen, waving her hand dismissively. 

He still hears her say, “As a mom you know these things, but lord help me, you never want to see them.”

* * *

Percy walks into their temporary bedroom and finds Annabeth, makeup-less and in his t-shirt and a pair of his sweats, laying with a sleeping Estelle, brushing her hair away from her face. She glances at him when he enters, then her eyes are back on the seven year old.

He starts undressing for bed. “You were really serious about her sleeping with you.”

Annabeth nods.

He pulls off his briefs and tugs on a pair of pajama bottoms, only grabbing a t-shirt when she gives him a pointed look.

“So how are we ever gonna finish what we started in the kitchen?”

“We aren’t.” She stares him down as he joins them in bed. “Not in this house.”

His eyes widen. “You can’t be serious?”

She purses her lips and her eyebrows draw together. She is serious. “Percy. That was mortifying. In a horrible, sobering way.”

He gets under the covers. “Yeah. It was. I get that. But in the end Mom was laughing. She’s not exactly a nun.” He turns on his side. “Otherwise I wouldn’t exist.”

“It’s one thing to be a happy duo of not-nuns. It’s another thing to walk into your son and your daughter-in-law having sex on your kitchen counter.” Her hand slowly rubs Estelle’s back. “I can’t even think about sex with you without recalling her expression.”

Percy rolls his eyes. He watches her soothe his sleeping sister.

“This is cute,” he comments after a moment. She smiles slightly in answer, eyes still on Estelle. “But, I’m not gonna lie, it sort of turns me on in a thinking-about-making-babies-with-you kind of way.”

She looks at him with a frown. “You are _horrible_.”

“Remember who had an orgasm back there? Remember who didn’t?”

Her face relaxes out of the frown and she’s remorseful enough to blush before her attention goes back to Estelle.

“Come on.” He reaches over Estelle to briefly shake Annabeth’s thigh. “Where’s my best friend, my wife, Annabeth Chase? Daring. Demanding. A sexual deviant.”

“She had a too-close encounter with your mom, and will not be available for the next five weeks.”

He props his head up with his elbow. 

“So you’re gonna use my sister as a cock block?”

She doesn’t reply, but he sees a smile tug at the corners of her mouth.

He shakes his head, “You are unbelievable.”

He balances over Estelle, kisses her forehead, then leans further to kiss Annabeth’s mouth. “But I’m irresistible. So you’re not gonna last.”

“You’re very cocky.”

“You love me like that. You fake prude.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr for more updates, snippets, and to join the real fun [@memehereagain ](https://memehereagain.tumblr.com) Or just join us in the comment section here.


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